


Five Words, One Story

by ArtisticVicu



Series: RPApril Extravaganza 2018 [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Children, Conflict Resolution, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Family Bonding, Gen, Imagination, M/M, Multiple Lifetimes, Nonbinary Character, Original Character(s), Soulmates, multiple stories, trip to the museum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23553409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtisticVicu/pseuds/ArtisticVicu
Summary: Each chapter is a different story. Chapters 2 and 3 go together.Chapter 1:Bryce was minding his own business playing in the sandbox when his younger sister comes over and ruins everything. He expects harsh words from his dad but the words that are given to him instead are an alternative way for him to deal with the situation.Chapter 2:How many times have they been pitted against each other? How many times will he have to endure being the villain before the damnedcyclesend? Too bad that butterfly birthmark was already haunting his dreams, otherwise it would be the catalyst for so many nightmares.Chapter 3:The newcycledoesn't seem so bad. In fact, he would venture he could enjoy it. Now if only he could avoid the hero for a while, that would be great.Chapter 4:A pleasant trip to the museum.Event Summary:Five things that were seemingly unrelated were given as a prompt every week. The task was to take these five things and combine them into a short story each week.
Relationships: hero/villain - Relationship
Series: RPApril Extravaganza 2018 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1687294





	1. Sandstorm

He was bent low over the handlebars of his **motorbike** against the harsh setting sun. His scarf, red from the blood of his enemies, snapped and waved behind him in the wind, a flag of who he was as he made his way across the barren desert. There was no sign of relief from either the heat or the unstoppable thirst that ate at him. What water he had was long since dried up and it was only him and his trusty motorbike taking on the expanse of desert.  
  
With no sign of shade or water, he pressed on with the hope tha-  
  
A sandstorm came out of nowhere and a **horse** suddenly appeared.  
  
"Mom! Amy's messing up my story again!"  
  
The afternoon sun was high above the backyard. A boy was kneeling in the sandbox with a toy motorbike in hand, a **red ribbon** tied around the driver's neck as if it were a scarf. In front of the boy was a girl younger than he was with a plastic horse in the way of his toy.  
  
"Bryce, she just wants to play with you," a woman called from the deck, a dripping watering hose in hand. "Why don't you include her in your story?"  
  
Bryce made a face. "But she's too little! She'll just mess everything up."  
  
"You could always learn how to play with her," his mom offered, voice amused.  
  
Bryce rolled his eyes. "But I don't want to."  
  
"Then I don't know what to tell you." She looked at him, serious but kind. "However, that sandbox is for both of you so you have to share. I understand that it is upsetting when you want something to go a certain way but things change regularly and being willing to work with the change instead of against it will make things easier."  
  
Bryce made a face again. "I don't want to."  
  
His mom chuckled. "None of us do, love, but it is what it is." Amy plopped down in the sand, plastic horse still in hand as she watched him. Bryce scooted away, not at all happy with her presence. "You will learn to be happy with being able to adapt to new things easily in a few years."  
  
"No I won't," he spoke stubbornly, nudging his sister's approaching toy away with his hand.  
  
"Ok," his mom said and the conversation fell away as she went on watering the plants.  
  
Bryce, for his part and with one eye on his mom, scooted his sister to the farthest corner of the small sandbox. She giggled, clapping her hands as best she could with the toy horse still firmly clutched in one. Situating himself once more, he went back to his storytelling.  
  
Time was running out. He needed to make it to the other side of the desert before-  
  
Amy's hand wrapped around the ribbon trailing behind his toy and pulled hard.  
  
"Hey!" he shouted, yanking on his toy to get the ribbon out of her hold. She was holding on much tighter than he had realized and the ribbon stayed in her grip. "Let go!" She giggled, finding this an enjoyable game as he yanked on it again. "Let go!"  
  
He gave one last yank and the head of the motorbike's driver broke off, the ribbon slipping from the rest of the toy with it. He watched it bounce off of Amy's forehead. He sat there too stunned to feel anything as he watched his sister's eyes well up with tears.  
  
She started crying and suddenly he was mad, very mad. His favorite toy was now missing its head and it was all his sister's fault. Without thinking, he picked up her plastic horse and threw it as far as he could. It bounced off the nearby fence and landed in the mud.  
  
"Bryce!"  
  
He flinched and, just like that, he went from being very mad to suddenly very scared. He looked up, defiance still keeping him from actually cowering and he gave his dad a look. However, instead of looking angry like Bryce had thought the man would be, instead the man looked very calm. Bryce folded his arms and looked away as his dad squatted beside the sandbox. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Amy get picked up and jealousy rushed through him. Why wasn't his dad holding him? He was the one with a broken toy.  
  
"Hey, bug-a-boo," his dad cooed. Amy's crying calmed to sniffles as her attention turned to their dad. Bryce didn't look over but he kept listening. "Does your head still hurt?"  
  
There was an affirming hum along with another sniffle.  
  
"Do you want me to kiss it better?"  
  
Bryce didn't hear nor see what she had done but he was certain she had nodded, forehead nestled on their dad's shoulder. There was the sound of his dad kissing Amy's forehead. "All better?"  
  
Probably another nod for his dad turned his attention on Bryce. "Bryce." Bryce looked over even though he didn't want to. His dad reached out and ruffled his hair. "You ok, buddy?"  
  
Bryce shook his head. "Amy broke my toy."  
  
His dad's head tipped to the side still completely focused on the boy. "It was an accident. You know that, right?"  
  
"But she pulled on the ribbon!" Bryce shouted, flailing his arms.  
  
His dad nodded. "That she did, but her intent had not been to break the toy, had it? What had she wanted to do?"  
  
Bryce frowned, already used to his parents and their odd ways with dealing with these kind of things. "She wanted to play with the ribbon."  
  
"Right." His dad shifted so that he was sitting crosslegged by the sand box. "And had she been older, what would you have done instead of yelling at her?"  
  
"Asked her to let go," he grumbled, looking away.  
  
"And since she's younger, what do you have to do instead?"  
  
Bryce sighed, annoyed. "I have to be careful and understanding. I have to give her something else to play with."  
  
"And if she wants to play with you?"  
  
Again Bryce sighed but this time he was kind of resigned to it all. "Then I take the time to play with her till she is distracted by something else."  
  
"Correct. Now." His dad shifted Amy to his other leg. "What would you have felt had the toy broken and hit you in the forehead?"  
  
"Upset," he spoke without thinking. "And confused."  
  
"Right. And then how would you have felt had someone thrown your toy into the mud after that had happened?"  
  
"But my-" Bryce started, angry again.  
  
"I know, Bryce," his dad soothed. "Can you answer the question for me, at least?"  
  
Bryce grumbled for a second before he did. "I would have been more upset."  
  
"Right." There was footfall on the other side of the sandbox and Bryce looked up to see his mom walking over, hose in one hand, freshly rinsed horse in the other. His dad continued talking as his mom handed Amy her horse. "Sometimes we do things out of our emotions we would not like others to do to us. When that happens, when we do something we would not like, we apologize. We say sorry and mean it before correcting our actions or making amends. Sometimes others will not want to hear it but I'm sure your sister would be happy if you were able to apologize, mean it, and do something different."  
  
"But what about my toy?" Bryce asked, not willing to let that piece up.  
  
His dad smiled. "Your mom's already fixed it."  
  
Bryce looked over and found that indeed his mom had fixed it. The biker's head was back on and the ribbon back in place as a scarf. He took it when his mom handed it to him. He turned his toy over, mulling all this over for a moment, before turning to meet his sister's watching gaze. "I'm sorry, Amy," he said and he meant it. "Do you still want to play?"  
  
Her face lit up and she squirmed out of their dad's lap back into the sand. His dad reached out and fixed the **sunflower** barrette holding back Amy's hair before stepping away with his mom. Bryce settled back into the sand and placed his toy before him. His sister placed her plastic horse beside the bike.  
  
The journey for **freedom** from the hot sands would be long and hard for both of them, he was certain. As his red scarf trailed behind him in the wind, he looked over at the rider beside him, a girl on top of a strong horse, a sunflower tucked into her braided hair and the sun glinting off of the shackles around her wrists and ankles. She was beaming at him and he smiled back behind his scarf. It would be worth it, though, he decided. There was no other companion he wanted on this journey than her.  
  
It was her freedom they were fighting for anyways.


	2. Life Cycles

He could hear them coming and he wasn't sure if it was confidence or them accepting what was coming next that caused them to not even attempt to sneak up on him. Though, they could be trying for all that he knew. The castle certainly echoed something fierce and he wouldn't put it passed them to fail at stealth.  
  
The **crescent moon** above seemed to mock him as he closed his eyes against its light, the evening's soft breath caressing him as he stood at the open window.  
  
The door behind him creaked at it opened and he opened his eyes but didn't turn around. He listened to them approach, to those that had hesitation in their steps and to those that stepped without it. The group paused halfway in the room but one came a stop between him and the group and he knew who it was even before he turned around.  
  
The room was bathed in the yellow light of torches, a sharp contrast against the blue white light of the moon that was his only light near the window. He had put out the torches on this side of the room for that effect alone. He figured if this was his last stand, he was going to make it look good.  
  
"It seems you have found me, dear Hero," he teased, the smile easy and his arms opening in greeting. It was easy to fake this. He had done it enough times before to know how to pretend he was the villain they saw him as. "Did you miss me that much?"  
  
"Enough, Neryk," the hero spoke, their voice weary and the name actually sending a spark of annoyance through him. "It's time this whole cycle ends."  
  
"Oh?" he drawled, his lips curling into a sneer as he looked at them in disdain. "And who was it that initiated this whole cycle, _Kyren_." The name was spat as if it disgusted him. It certainly wasn't pleasant to say. "I have told you many times that this is not my doing. It is yours."  
  
The hero shook their head but there was no fight behind their eyes. They truly looked as tired as they had sounded when they had first spoken. "No, it isn't."  
  
He scoffed. "Fine. Continue being blind." He unsheathed his sword and gave them a vicious grin. "I'll just continue enjoying this till the day this cycle finally crumbles."  
  
He wasn't sure how he managed to lie so perfectly because it certainly wasn't anywhere near the truth. He was tired of this repetition, tired of the hand he had been dealt, and he had tried correcting it, tried breaking it, but no matter what he had said, the hero wouldn't listen. And now they had the audacity to say they wanted it to end? It just made him even more tired.  
  
Their swords clashed without him paying much attention. They had done this dance so many times, he could predict their every move with his eyes closed. They had been fighting for so long, nothing they ever did took him by surprise. Not even their cohorts surprised him anymore, not with the number the hero had been through over the cycles.  
  
But just as he had learned the hero's way of fighting, the hero had learned his and their battles now lasted hours. He was certain one had lasted a full day but that was nothing compared to how abruptly this one suddenly changed.  
  
They had ended up on the balcony. They always ended up somewhere where one of them would be cornered. As of late, the hero had started becoming the victorious one. This time was no different and he found himself up against the banister, the roaring of the river and its **waterfall** several 100 yards to the east white noise as he worked to remain on top even with himself being cornered and the hero bound to win.  
  
A slash at him forced him backwards and his back collided with the banister harder than he had intended.  
  
The crack broke through the white noise of the water below as he realized he was going farther back than was safe.  
  
The horror on the hero's face was new as he fell backwards off the balcony, watching as they leapt towards him with an outstretched hand and missed, the **butterfly** birthmark on the inside of their left wrist stark against their skin as their armor shifted enough for it to peak out.  
  
The water was ice cold when he hit it but what killed him was the rocks at the bottom of the waterfall.  
  
It seemed to have been enough, though, for he woke up groggy and in a new body with memories of a simple life, a modern life. It had been quite a few cycles since they had ended up in a modern era. Certainly wasn't futuristic if the **torn jeans** he was wearing and the **tv** in the corner were anything to go by. At least this time he was an adult living on their own. The last time he had ended up in a modern time, he had either a family to deal with or had been a kid.  
  
Those had always been the hardest. Even with the ones that had families or relations that weren't very kind or loving, there was always someone there to shower him in unconditional love and companionship. Those were the hardest to leave.  
  
He slowly moved to a sitting position the couch. Memories of the life he didn't actually live told him that waking on the couch was a common occurrence and he wasn't looking forward to sleepless nights of nightmares. At least he was in an era where the tv and media player had timers on them to shut off after a certain amount of non-use time. He hated the ones where he woke up to white noise or the sound of some show playing on the tv. He hated the ones that had alarms to wake him upon cycle change too. Those meant he had no time to acclimate himself to the new cycle.  
  
Pushing himself to his feet, he started to wander the apartment. It wasn't overly big but it was enough and clean enough to have him comfortable with the space. Maybe this cycle wouldn't be like previous ones. Maybe he would actually get to live a normal life.  
  
He doubted that whatever deity was controlling his cruel fate would be that kind.  
  
The apartment was cleaned and reorganized before the sun set 12 hours later. Hungry, he entered the kitchen to see what he could throw together with what was in there. There were several containers of leftovers and he grabbed one, the memories of the life before his arrival informing him what the food was supposed to be and when it had been made. He glanced at the closest calendar. The food was still good and he went about reheating it.  
  
There was a knock on the door when the microwave beeped. He glanced towards the door frowning but he took the time to remove his freshly warmed food and a fork from the silverware drawer before he even moved towards his front door to answer it.  
  
He pulled it open with the fork in his mouth, a bite of the surprisingly delicious food resting on his tongue. He blinked at the person on the other side, not at all concerned with the fact that he was currently shirtless and in sweat pants. He had every intent of going to bed after his meal and his unexpected guest was not going to change that.  
  
He arched an eyebrow at them as he pulled the fork from between his lips, chewing on his bite.  
  
The stranger didn't seemed to need him to speak for their raised their left hand, baring their wrist for him.  
  
He choked on his food when the butterfly registered in his brain.  
  
He glared at them, snapping around what food remained in his mouth, "How the fuck did you find me so quickly and why the hell are you here?"  
  
"I want to talk."  
  
He gave them a flat look but the hero never looked away. Instead, their calm gaze met his and, for the first time since this all began, he realized he was probably looking at the closest accurate reincarnation of his foe. Dark skin, darker eyes and hair, and the pale butterfly birthmark, all of it on a toned male body. He was still white as he had ever been with the same brown hair and brown eyes. Plain, bland, and with a crescent moon birthmark on his right hip that even now was visible. He hated all of it.  
  
"About what?" he challenged, not moving from where he stood with his dinner still in hand, fork included.  
  
A look crossed the hero's face. "This."  
  
They were across the threshold, hands soft and warm on his cheeks as their lips clashed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continues in the next chapter.


	3. Fatal Fantasies

His breath caught in his throat as his mind zeroed in on the other's lips pressed against his. He reached out and blindly grabbed at the other, fisting their shirt when the fabric touched his fingertips. He pulled them close, egging them on as his tongue sought theirs, the rush of sensation - of the _taste_ \- wrapped around him so thoroughly that he was dizzy from it.  
  
Just as with everything before, the hero pressed him, tongue fighting his in the heated kiss, not letting him dominate even as he tried to. But, then, that was the only thing he was trying to dominate in.  
  
The higher parts of his shoulders pressed against some wall meaning he had nowhere to go as the hero pressed fully against him and he didn't even know they had moved, had thought the vertigo was from the kiss, but the pressure brought his attention away and _their hands were pressed against his skin under his shirt, caressing his ribs from the front around to the back, fingers trailing down his spine_ -  
  
He broke the kiss, gasping for air he hadn't realized he needed and it made everything seem sharper and he was shaking, sucking in air as the hero's lips and teeth found his jaw, _his neck_ , and he wanted....he wanted....  
  
"Wait," he rasped out, pulling to gain distance.  
  
When had he buried his hand into those locks of hair?  
  
"You," he said breathlessly, body quaking as one of the hero's hands rubbed up his back. "You wanted to talk." He tried to pull himself together before they did something they both regretted. "We _need_ to talk before," a breath, a much needed breath, "before either of us no longer can."  
  
The hero's pupils were dilated, hair a mess, and looking well kissed and far too gone in all of it that he feared they wouldn't respond. He wasn't certain he was up to trying to stop them if they simply kissed him and continued on as if he hadn't spoken. _He_ might just catch the hero's face in his hands and say screw it before kissing the life out of the both of them.  
  
But the hero pulled away, nodding as they blinked as if waking from a dream. "Right," they spoke. And again, as if they were making sure they had said it, "Right."  
  
They pulled away but they were still close, a hand still against the bare skin just above his pants on his hip. "We need to talk. Couch?"  
  
He stepped forward, legs shaking and he was scared he would collapse, would not be able to make it to the couch before he gave into the need for more, for so much more, but then he felt the couch cushions against the back of his legs and he was sitting without remembering that he had even walked there and _their hand was still on him as they sat sideways on the couch, facing him and he couldn't breathe-_  
  
"So," he spoke, the word a bit shaky but it cleared his thoughts enough for him to bring himself back together, not that it helped him with choosing the rest of his words. "Is it true attraction or just some way of relieving some stress?"  
  
The hero looked taken aback. "What? Why would it be anythin-"  
  
"Because we've been fighting for countless cycles," he cut in, his cheeks burning. Because he had been asking himself for _cycles_ and here he was with his highest fantasies coming to life and he was _question it with the hero_. "Cycles of us striving to take the other out and you arbitrarily decide that it's a good'a cycle as any to outright _kiss me_."  
  
"You kissed me back," the hero countered almost like they were defending themself. A bark of a laugh leapt out of his throat. The hero's cheeks colored a bit and he found himself _enjoying it_ \- "so clearly I'm not alone in this."  
  
"Yes, but I've been pining after you since before the cycles began," he countered, though it was a tad bit of an exaggeration and a slip of the tongue, not that he had much to lose with telling the truth. While the hero certainly was attractive in every reincarnation, their personality was less than desirable in the beginning. It was as he watched them grow stronger and more confident - _and more beautiful_ \- that he found himself falling for them without realizing that was what he was doing. "And where you had freedom for whatever you desired, I was stuck in the role of the villain, forced to strangle my emotions till they haunted me in my dreams."  
  
The hero flinched but there was a fire in their eyes he recognized. "There was no way I was going to move on feelings like this and you know it." Their expression broke and the fire nearly went out. He wished it had stayed. He was familiar with arguing with them. "I would have loved nothing more to have stopped this nonsense when I realized what I was truly feeling all those cycles ago."  
  
"And how long has it been?" he asked, his voice weak, the heat gone when they had none to give him in return.  
  
" **Bronze strawberries**."  
  
That enough for him to know which one and he flinched back as if they had smacked him. He snarled, "Must have been right before because you were _vicious_ that particular cycle and the ones that followed."  
  
"And I am so sorry for that," the hero blurted, startling him. "It doesn't matter what kind of thing we were caught in. I had no right to take my frustration and confusion out on you. None."  
  
He stared at the hero, confused but strangely soothed by their words. He reached out and covered their hand with his, gaining their gaze. "Regardless of what happened, we now have this between us clear as day. And as much as the array of bronze strawberry statues still haunts my nightmares," he shuddered and they squeezed his hand, sympathetic and regretful, "I am more than happy to stop these violent cycles even if this is the only one."  
  
He was certain it was bliss that filled the hero's expression before the hero's hands were on his face again as they kissed him. His back hit the couch cushions and for what seemed like a blissful eternity, his word was nothing but that kiss.  
  
Searing pain filled his chest, one that he was very unfortunate to recognize as being stabbed in the chest. He hissed as the hero pulled away enough for him to see their smirk but not whatever they had driven into his sternum.  
  
"Are you stupid?" they drawled, adding a brief amount of pressure to his chest. He gasped in pain. "Did you really think that you, the villain, would ever have a hero fall for you?" Another increase of pressure just to decrease. "You're pathetic."  
  
And again.  
  
"Vile."  
  
And again.  
  
" **Pig**."  
  
And again.  
  
"You will never have this."  
  
And again.  
  
"Never."  
  
He couldn't breathe and his body reacted by instinctively sending him into a coughing fit. The pressure on his chest and whatever was over him vanished as he rolled onto his side as he hacked up far more liquid than was safe and probably vomiting while he was at it. A cold breeze washed over him. Or maybe it was warm for he realized he was drenched from head to toe and any touch of air against the water on his person seemed to freeze him. He shuddered, suddenly very cold as through his watery gaze he caught sight of a moonlit **lake**. He blinked once, twice, and the scene cleared, showing the Moon next to **Venus** in the sky, both shining as brightly as ever.  
  
He jerked when something brushed against him and he whipped around to find the hero standing before them, a dry cloak outstretched between them as if the hero was making to cover him in it. He took them in, eyes wide with whatever emotion he was drowning in.  
  
They were sopping wet, trembling, and flushed. Their breath was coming in pants as if they had taken great effort and it took him a moment to realize they were armorless, long blond hair sticking to everything, even their cheeks and forehead, blue eyes filled with both relief and concern and it made him sick.  
  
"Get away from me," he growled, shoving at their offered aid as he stumbled to his feet choking on disbelief - _a dream, it had only been a horrible, torturous dream_ \- as he righted himself back in the cycle. "Haven't you done enough?"  
  
Hurt crossed the hero's face and regret was bitter on the back of his tongue. He didn't take it back, though. Instead, he turned away from the hero and their cohorts and started for the castle, ignoring the cold - _the sorrow_ \- strangling him as he ignored the shouts of his name as he stumbled.  
  
And fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continues into [Five Words, One Stories of 2019](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23553571/chapters/56502439).


	4. Still Life

"Oh, wow!"  
  
The hall was full of people as he entered the building, a small hand held securely in his as his partner pressed their hand into his back, fingers clenching fabric. He want to reach back with his free hand but there wasn't room and his partner was ok. The touch hadn't turned clinging or desperate yet; they were just making sure not to lose him in the crowd.  
  
Said crowd ebbed and flowed this way and that, people moving to where they needed to be, whether that was a queue for entry tickets or towards the true entrance of the establishment. Some, however, like the little hand tugging on his, were making their way to the first thing on display upon entering the building.  
  
"Daddy, it's a T-Rex!" the little one pulling on his hand exclaimed happily, bouncing up and down in glee. It brought a fond smile to his face to see the child so filled with joy and amazement.  
  
He scooped the little one up, hefting them onto his shoulder. "Big, isn't it," he commented, settling their weight properly on his shoulder. "It could gobble you up in one bite." He grinned at the blue eyes watching him. "Want me to feed you to the t-rex?"  
  
He moved to heft the child higher up towards the open maw of the skeleton high over their heads and the child squealed, squirming in his secure grasp as he took a good beating for his effort. He laughed even as their words, though all in play, echoed right along with the rest of the din of the hall.  
  
"No! I don't want to be dino food!" the child squealed between giggles and he brought them down into his arms where they squirmed and laughed as he held them close and hit a few of their tickle spots with quick, gentle fingers. "Daddy!"  
  
He laughed again - breathless even - as he situated his little one on his hip, their head finding his shoulder as they breathed heavily from the exertion. He turned to his partner, their fingertips slipping from his back.  
  
"Did they say they were meeting us in one of the exhibition halls?" he asked, reaching out and running a hand over the hair of the younger child his partner was carrying. The little one looked at him from where their head was tucked up against his partner's neck, brown eyes large beneath the mop of black hair.  
  
"Near the **caveman** exhibit is all I was sent," his partner replied, shifting the little one's weight up again.  
  
He nodded. "Then let's head in."  
  
They started towards the entry point, weaving this way and that through those waiting for others to purchase tickets or those making their way to do so. They broke free of the worst of the crowd and he was quite happy to see the lines to enter were short and moving quickly. He looked to his partner. "Do you want to undo the strollers now or wait?"  
  
"We can undo one," his partner spoke, shifting the child to their hip. "My arms are starting to die on me."  
  
He reached out and carefully removed one of two umbrella strollers from his partner's back, padded against causing his partner pain by the backpack there full of needed supplied, like the old **cd player** with the books and their cds for when the kids got bored and needed something quiet to do. The stroller unfolded with a good shake and he pressed down on the lock bar to secure the frame open. He stepped on one wheel lock before pressing his foot against the other wheel.  
  
His partner knelt before the stroller and placed the small child they had been carrying into the seat, buckling them in. The little one squirmed a little bit but was quickly placated with a raggedy stuffed dog pulled from the backpack's side mesh pocket. He let his partner take the stroller before hefting the child on his own hip up a bit higher.  
  
He walked with his partner to one of the entry gates that was a bit wider and made with strollers in mind, not that they couldn't go through the normal gates with how compact the simple umbrella stroller was. Regardless, the gate attendant was welcoming and considerate, happily scanning the digital tickets before giving both kids stickers and sending them on through. The one in the stroller paid the sticker on their chest little mind while the child he was carrying seemed ecstatic. "Daddy. Daddy, look. It's a T-Rex like the one at the front. Except it's not bones."  
  
He chuckled, looking down at the sticker. "So it is!" he happily agreed. "And it's green, too."  
  
"I like green," the child stated proudly, like it was some achievement.  
  
He smiled again, hefting the child back up onto his shoulders, this time situated so that their legs were on either side of his head. They wrapped their small arms around the top of his head as their feet tucked under his arms. He clasped his hands to their knees, knowing he wasn't going to be able to carry them for long like this but it made the next part easy at least. "And it's a fine color to like."  
  
This way and that they weaved through the light crowd. Despite what they had first seen, the museum was large enough to swallow the crowds and make it seem as if there were only a few others there with them.  
  
"This one?" he asked, staring at the direction placard next to a hall. He wasn't blind but he certainly couldn't seem to find the hall they needed.  
  
"Should be," his partner stated and he reached up. Hands secure around the child's torso, he carefully lifted the little one up and over his head to place on the ground. "Alright, **tiger**. Daddy's getting tired. Do you want to ride in the stroller or do you want to walk?"  
  
Their little hand found his. "I'm ok to walk, Daddy," they spoke, words reassuring as they patted his hand. "You just rest."  
  
He smiled gently and pressed a kiss to the top of their head. "Thanks, kiddo."  
  
He looked to his partner and they gestured at the placard. "Should be through this hall and down the one on the left."  
  
"I'll follow you, then."  
  
Walking side by side with the little hand in his, they started down the exhibit hall. But just as children will do, both grew intrigued by the things in the hall and there were many times they stopped to stare at the exhibits. The older practiced reading as they read to their younger sibling what the different informational placards held.  
  
He never let them wander too far and neither did his partner. Together they kept an eye on both children even as they took a moment to fold the umbrella stroller and transfer the pack between them. His partner sighed in relief when he took the many items and their weight off of their shoulders. He secured them on his back before reaching out and rubbing at his partner's neck lovingly, reminding them, "You could have spoken up sooner. There's no need to wear yourself out. They'll do it well enough for us."  
  
His partner chuckled as they shadowed the children to the next display. "I didn't want to burden you after having carried a growing toddler on your shoulders. Children get heavier as they grow, not lighter."  
  
He chuckled, pressing a kiss to his partner's temple. "I appreciate the sentiment. I still would prefer if you spoke up. We are in no hurry and can take breaks as needed." The children laughing drew his attention. They were holding fake antelope ears to their own, marveling at the change in sound. "They will certainly need many. This place is still massive."  
  
His partner hummed in agreement but said no more.  
  
They ended up running into the others. The group suddenly grew from his family of four to several families equating to nearly 20 people. There were a lot of a children, all excited to be together and hang out and it took some corralling to get everyone together and towards the main event space. He quickly scooped up his smallest as his partner walked with the older child.  
  
"Come on, **sunshine** ," he softly spoke, nestling the child close to his breast. "It's best if we don't let you get trampled, huh?"  
  
The child burrowed close before resting their cheek against his chest and watching the world. He ran his hand through their hair a few times before securing both arms around the child and following after the crowd.  
  
He watched as the older child received several balloons tied together to create a **spear** that was quickly smacked against his partner's head. Even as he and his partner laughed at the antic, he wasn't sure who thought it was such a good idea to give children things they can smack others with.


End file.
